


Lovebirds

by businessboyjared



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:46:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22413448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/businessboyjared/pseuds/businessboyjared
Summary: Richie has a plan to make Ben the best anniversary present ever.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Richie Tozier
Comments: 15
Kudos: 51





	Lovebirds

**Author's Note:**

> im obsessed w benchie/trashstack now, i dont know what to tell ya.

The thing about Richie is, he’s a terrible gift giver. Well—not _terrible_ , he’s never like, made anyone cry in a bad way. But he’s also never made anyone cry in a _good_ way, which seems like the gold star standard for being deemed a wonderful gift giver. The other thing about Richie is that he’s married to Ben, who gives him such amazing gifts for every occasion that Richie has no choice but to cry at every single one of them. He’s also just a natural born crier with very big feelings—that’s another thing about him.  
  
So when their anniversary starts slowly creeping closer, Richie is determined to follow through with his ideas for once. He’s got enough self-awareness to know that his major gift-giving flaw is having an abundance of elaborate, romantic gestures in his head with none of the concentration to see them fully realized. In the past, he’s simply forgotten his plan altogether, or his vivid imagination was constrained by some bullshit concepts like time and space, or, most often, he’ll hit one small snag in the midst of planning that tears a hole in everything, and drains away all of his motivation to soldier on and see them through.  
  
_Not this time!_ Richie thinks triumphantly when he secretly registers for a weekly beginner’s woodworking class at a local shop. Ben has his own workspace—he built it himself as an add-on to their garage—but Richie does _not_ want to risk Ben finding out about this surprise just because he was too dumb to put a hammer back in the right place or whatever. He also _really_ doesn’t want to accidentally cut his fingers off with a circle saw because he was left unsupervised around dangerous equipment. So, with all of this in mind, Richie only feels a tiny bit guilty the following Tuesday night when he tells Ben he’s going to a few open mics to try out new material.  
  
Ben, ever the supportive husband, practically pushes Richie out the door and onto their front porch with a kiss and a soft pat on the ass. “Knock ‘em dead, baby.”  
  
Richie winks at him and puts on a sultry voice. “Oh, I’ll knock ‘em dead so hard they’ll have to charge me with second-degree murder.”  
  
Ben wrinkles his nose at that. “I can’t promise that I won’t run off and marry Mike while you’re in jail.”  
  
Richie can’t even fake a pout at that, he just laughs heartily and unlocks his car. “And I fully support that! I hope you two live a long and happy and, most importantly, very sexy life together.”  
  
Ben grins and waves goodbye, then turns back into the house. Richie takes a deep breath before directing the GPS to his new secret hangout spot for the next six weeks.  
  


* * *

  
  
Turns out, Richie could not wait for these six weeks to be over.  
  
He doesn’t hate the class, per se, because he knew—or hoped, at least—that the end results would make Ben so happy. It was the lying about it every week that tore him up inside. Richie has never been a good liar, not to his parents as a kid and certainly not to his husband now as an adult.  
  
For his part, Ben never seemed to notice anything was up. He had only questioned Richie once, noting that a 7pm open mic was awfully early in the evening compared to most. He was right actually, and Richie hadn’t really thought that part through. So, he’d just shrugged his denim jacket on and said “Well, this old man ain’t complaining!” in a shaky old age voice, then blew Ben a kiss on his way out, eager to get out of the house before he let something slip.  
  
Over the weeks, Richie comes home with wood glue still on his fingertips, or a splinter stuck in his palm. Once, he even has to pause on the front porch to shake sawdust from his hair before going inside. He always leaves the small in-class projects behind, mostly because they aren’t in Richie’s plan for Ben’s gift but also because… they’re just not _great_. And Richie’s a little concerned that his skillset isn’t actually improving, that he’s doing all of this for nothing, but he gives himself the benefit of the doubt for once. Maybe his work looks bad because he’s spent several weeks scrutinizing it already. Fingers crossed, anyway.  
  
When Richie returns home from his last woodworking class, he’s got his final project wrapped up in a bag. He hides it in the hall closet, kicks his shoes off and heads down the hallway to their bedroom, where Ben is already tucked in and reading. He looks up at him from his book and gives a sleepy smile. The bedside lamp makes him look all warm and glowing and god, Richie loves him so much.  
  
“Hey, you,” Ben says as Richie walks to his side of the bed and leans down to give him a kiss. “How’d it go tonight?”  
  
Richie steps away to undress and change into a pair of sweatpants, grateful to have his back to Ben when he lies and says, “It was good! Nobody heckled me tonight, which as you know is very uncommon.”  
  
Ben chuckles at that and when Richie turns back around he lifts the edge of their blanket to invite him into bed. Richie crawls in easily, trails kisses along Ben’s stubbly cheek and jaw and then burrows down into the covers to tuck his head against his chest. Ben reaches down to take his glasses off for him and sets them on the nightstand, then turns the lamp off.  
  
“It’s our anniversary tomorrow,” Ben whispers with a smile while he plays with Richie’s hair. Richie lightly traces hearts and swirls into Ben’s belly with his finger. “I hope you like your present.”  
  
“You could tie a bow around your dick and that would be enough for me, babe.”  
  
Ben laughs but gasps a little scandalized “ _Richie!_ ” and tugs at a strand of his hair.  
  
Richie tilts his head up to look at Ben as innocently as he can. “What, did I ruin the surprise?”  
  
“Yes,” Ben deadpans. “Now I’ll have to go with my plan B.”  
  
“Plan B—” Richie starts wheezing out a laugh.  
  
“Oh god.” Ben mumbles, sensing a joke. He starts laughing before it even comes. “Richie—!”  
  
“Plan B is what I named your dick.” Richie finally gets out through his giggles, and they both start laughing in the dark.  
  
“If you don’t go to sleep…” Ben takes a breath to stop himself from laughing, but then he looks down and sees Richie use Ben’s shirt to wipe a tear from his eye and it gets him going again. “If you don’t go to sleep right now, you’re not getting either plan!”  
  
It’s an empty threat, of course, but Richie is nothing if not a total ham, so he immediately squeezes his eyes shut and starts making cartoon snoring sounds.  
  
“See? I’m asleep.”  
  
Ben yawns and squeezes Richie tighter. “Me too. Love you.”  
  
“Love you, too.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Ben wakes Richie up with breakfast in bed, because of course he does. Richie couldn’t love him more if he tried. He’ll keep trying anyway.  
  
“Pour moi?” Richie mumbles, still a little sleepy and blind as all hell without his glasses on. Ben sets the tray of food on his lap and leans in to give him the sweetest little kiss on the tip of his nose, one that makes Richie go cross-eyed. Ben hands him his glasses and Richie kisses him back, on the lips this time, now that he can actually see them. He wasn’t planning on stopping either, until the growling of his stomach reminds him he’s actually fucking starving.  
  
Ben pulls away first and shushes Richie when he starts to whine about it. “Let’s eat, I’m hungry, too.” He cuts off a piece of the waffle he made and feeds it to Richie, then takes a bite for himself. They smile at each other and chew in silence. Ben hands Richie a mug of coffee he hadn’t seen earlier and he almost cries from happiness.  
  
“You make the best coffee _and_ waffles in all of California. The whole world, actually. It’s why I married you.”  
  
“Mm, I thought you married me for my abs.” Ben takes another bite of their shared waffle and winks at Richie.  
  
“Well yes, but that goes without saying.” Richie takes another sip of coffee, then pauses for a second. He feels a weight sit a little too heavy in his stomach and, like usual, is incapable of keeping it to himself. “You know I’m actually joking about that, right? You don’t need abs for me to love you. Like, you’re always hot—” He shakes his head, because that’s still not quite what he’s getting at. “I don’t only value your looks, Ben.”  
  
Ben’s just looking at him, patient as ever while Richie’s brain and his mouth duke it out. Richie takes another bite of the waffle to keep himself from talking anymore. It’s for the best.  
  
Ben smiles and takes his left hand, rubs his thumb over the wedding band there. “I know that, Rich.” Richie feels his ears get all hot when Ben lifts his hand up to kiss his knuckles. “But for the record, I _totally_ married you for your looks.” Ben mumbles against Richie’s hand, which makes him bark out a laugh. Richie blinks the tears from his eyes, the ones he didn’t even realize were forming until just now. Ben drops his hand and stands up to gather the breakfast tray. “Present time?”  
  
Richie claps excitedly, then leaps out of bed and heads to where he hid Ben’s present. Ben puts the breakfast tray in the kitchen and then follows him to the closet.  
  
“Hey, no peeking!” Richie scolds him.  
  
“I’m not peeking, I hid your present in the hall closet!”  
  
Richie opens the closet door and finds his present where he shoved it to the back wall, and he starts to laugh as he watches Ben grab a small wrapped package from a top shelf, where he placed it behind a shoebox.  
  
“This means one of us has to find a new hiding spot—”  
  
“Nose goes!” Ben rushes to say, his pointer finger already on his nose. It’s so cute Richie can’t even be mad, but he pouts a little anyway just to be dramatic. And because he knows Ben will kiss his pouty lip away, which he does.  
  
“Can we go back to bed and open these already?” Richie whines.  
  
They crash back into their unmade bed and Richie is suddenly extremely self-conscious of his gift. He didn’t even put it in a box or wrap it or anything, it’s just in a _bag_ , for god’s sake. He’s such a tool.  
  
“You go first.” He says to Ben, gesturing at the small rectangular gift in his hand. Ben hands it over to him with a smile.  
  
Richie shakes it a little, despite it making no sound. “Is it a puppy?”  
  
“Close,” Ben chuckles. “Just open it, Richie.”  
  
Richie does as he’s told, and for the first time ever probably, he’s speechless. It’s a small notebook with a beautiful worn leather binding. The inside of the front flap has a small inscription, _Property of RWT_ , and a small elastic band to keep a pen for easy access. It’s nothing flashy—understated, even—and it’s completely perfect. Richie can’t stop running his fingers over the soft leather.  
  
Ben clears his throat. “I know you like keeping a notebook around,” This was an understatement, as Richie had notebooks lying around _everywhere_ in their house, and in the weirdest places, both in case of inspiration striking and because he forgets where he put the last one before he goes and buys another. “I thought it’d be nice for you to have a more permanent one instead of the janky dollar store ones. Do you like it?”  
  
God, Richie’s tearing up for the _second_ time this morning. Can his husband stop being so perfect? “I love it, Ben, c’mon,” He grabs Ben’s hand and tugs him forward for a kiss. “I love it, it's perfect.” Richie looks back down at the notebook, and a single teardrop escapes his eyes and lands on the leather.  
  
“Hey, don’t ruin it with your tears, big guy.” Ben teases, reaching over to lift Richie’s chin up and wipe the tear track from his cheek. Again, Richie doesn’t know what to say. Ben’s too thoughtful, too good, too _everything_. Ben seems to sense this, because he kisses him again and then directs his attention to the bag next to Richie.  
  
“My turn?” He makes grabby hands for it, and Richie feels the need to explain his gift away before he hands it over.  
  
“It’s not—okay, it’s not as good as yours, but…”  
  
Ben tsks at him. “I’m sure it’s great, Rich, come on.”  
  
“Sorry I didn’t wrap it.” Richie mumbles while Ben reaches into the plastic bag.  
  
He pulls out a small birdhouse, and Richie can immediately point out all of its glaring flaws. The small shingles on the roof are a little crooked, and the two halves of the roof don’t even meet together at the same point, so there’s a gap between them that Richie tried unsuccessfully to fill with wood glue. Ben is turning the birdhouse around in his hands, still examining it. No doubt cataloguing all of things he could have done better himself.  
  
Richie sees how he got a little overzealous with the paint, sees all of the visible globs and drip lines dried onto the sides. Ben turns the birdhouse back around so that the nesting hole is facing him. Richie spent so much time in class last week carving that part into a heart, which he now sees is completely lopsided. And now that he’s thinking about it, he’s not even sure the hole would be useful to a bird. Richie painted a wobbly _B_ and an _R_ on either side of the heart.  
  
Ben is silent while he takes it all in, and Richie has to look away. It’s killing him but he doesn’t have the strength to actually search out Ben’s reaction. He realizes now that it’s a bad present, and this time it’s the worst because he actually _tried_ , god dammit. Richie was proud of his work not two days ago, which is hilarious considering it’s probably the worst thing Ben’s ever seen.  
  
“Richie…”  
  
“It’s not perfect, I know. It’s just a placeholder, really, I’ll get you something better. You deserve something better, Ben—”  
  
“Richie.” Ben puts a hand on Richie’s arm to stop him from apologizing. Richie finally gathers the courage to tear his eyes from his lap. He looks at Ben and—  
  
“Oh my god, you’re crying. Is it that bad?!”  
  
Ben laughs wetly. “Richie, no!” He lets go of his arm to hold the birdhouse again, to cradle it, like it’s something precious. “You made this?” Richie nods.  
  
“When? I know you’re not sneaky enough to use my workshop.”  
  
“No, but I _am_ sneaky enough to take a beginner’s class on woodworking and lie to you about it for a full month!” Richie rushes out in one breath because _god_ it feels so fucking good to finally tell Ben about his secret. The way Ben’s mouth drops open in surprise is totally worth it, too.  
  
“You did _what!_ ” He yells, then laughs and pinches Richie’s side.  
  
“Ow! What, was I supposed to tell you it would take me six whole weeks just to make this piece of junk?” Richie gestures at the birdhouse, but that just makes Ben clutch it tighter to his chest.  
  
“It’s not a piece of junk, Richie! You made this,” Ben says, with a hint of awe in his voice. He sniffles and wipes at his eyes. “I’m really proud of you.” And god, if Richie doesn’t get a huge lump in his throat at hearing _that_. He kisses Ben just to keep himself from crying for a third time.  
  
Ben pulls away to look at the birdhouse again. The more he looks at it, with all the love in the world behind his eyes, the more Richie grows to like it. Ben did the same thing to Richie’s entire being, has _been_ doing it since they were kids. It’s basically his superpower.  
  
“Where do you wanna hang it?” Richie asks him.  
  
“By the window above the kitchen sink? I think that’d be perfect.” Ben leans over to kiss Richie, to get him to stop worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. It works for about a minute, and then Richie’s eyes dart between Ben and the birdhouse.  
  
“Do you really like it? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” Richie hates the way he sounds, asking something so silly and childish. He needs to hear it, though, and thank god that Ben knows him well enough to recognize that need. He puts the birdhouse down and takes both of Richie’s hands in his, then looks directly into his eyes.  
  
“Richie, I love it because _you_ made it for me. You made it for us, for our home, and I think that’s so special.” Richie’s heart thumps in his chest and up to his throat. “And no, I’m not just saying this to make you feel better. But I hope it does.” Ben kisses him, and it’s mostly just their smiles pressed against each other’s mouths, but it’s perfect as always. Richie sinks further into the bed and pulls Ben on top of him, their presents kicked to the floor.  
  
“So… how about that plan B?” Richie asks with a quirk of his eyebrow.


End file.
